


No Last Stands

by TheRudeTasteofSane



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: M/M, So much angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-17
Updated: 2017-03-17
Packaged: 2018-10-06 20:59:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10344456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheRudeTasteofSane/pseuds/TheRudeTasteofSane
Summary: We always met in such chaotic times.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is rated M for violence and character death. Nothing else (sorry to disappoint)
> 
> It was a much happier story when I wrote it. ;_; Angst is my comfort zone, I guess.

When Arthur died, Merlin felt a piece of his soul reach into the void after Arthur. It was only after many lonely years spent wandering, feeling acutely that he’d lost something, that Merlin finally succumbed to oblivion himself.

But of course, with so much still unfinished and unsaid between him and Arthur, Merlin knew it wasn't the end. Not by a long shot.

 

-(1845, India)-

 

Arthur and Merlin were just a couple of fortune-seeking soldiers. Neither had expected such a rough tour, but tension between the British troops and locals reached a breaking point only 3 months after they were put into the same battalion.

They were ambushed by locals on their way back from a supply run, outnumbered several to one.

Merlin had never been more than distantly friendly with the group's lieutenant, but when he caught the brief flash of a musket being aimed Arthur's way, something primal in him rose to the surface and he shoved the man out of the way.

The bullet punctured Merlin's ribs, and he instantly collapsed. Blood poured from the hole in his side and soaked into the ground beneath him. Through the pain, Merlin gasped as if he couldn't get enough air.

Arthur looked at him as if seeing him for the first time, grabbing Merlin's hand in a distraught manner. Thanking the man for his life and mixing it up with regret that they hadn't known each other better.

Merlin was dead before they reached their camp.

 

-(1916, France)-

 

Arthur and Merlin met on the battlefield, shocked by each other's opposing uniform.

With shaking hands, Merlin raised his gun and pointed it at Arthur's chest. Arthur's pale face and wide eyes belied his terror, and Merlin couldn't help feeling a bit of empathy for the German soldier in front of him.

He didn't realize he was crying until the German started speaking broken English to him.

"N-no cry... Please," Merlin only sobbed harder, and Arthur stepped closer with his arms raised to show that he meant no harm.

Arthur never saw the landmine in front of him. Merlin stood frozen, gun dropped carelessly at his side. Another German soldier put the nameless American soldier out of his misery without a word.

 

-(1947, Korea)-

 

They barely knew each other, but Merlin secretly loathed Arthur. He hated the forced occupation of the nation, the wrongness of their actions.

Arthur seemed to enjoy all the killing, stealing, and raping the war offered.

Merlin couldn't understand why he felt so disappointed in someone he didn't really know. Why he felt _so_ tired of fighting, like he'd been fighting his whole life. Maybe he had, in a previous life. It didn't matter either way. He couldn't handle any more.

One night he snuck off to an abandoned temple and shot himself in the head.

A couple of hours later the camp's comfort girls, enraged after years of sexual slavery, slaughtered several officers. Among them, Arthur, whose body was particularly ravaged.

-(1976, Vietnam)-

Merlin and Arthur were American soldiers entrenched in guerrilla warfare.

Arthur felt so much older than his 34 years. There was a part of him whispering that it was punishment for some wrong he'd committed in a past life, that he had to fight in this senseless war. That he'd fought in countless senseless wars.

Merlin was the one thing keeping Arthur from losing his sanity.

They'd been attached at the hip since they were born, practically. Friends and neighbors for most of their lives, Arthur was never far from Merlin and vice versa.

Friendships like theirs were to be treasured, Merlin's grandfather had always told them. It was a quote they observed religiously, feeling strangely like they were only together by the grace of a higher deity.  
  
In the midst of rapid gunfire whistling by them, Arthur finally knew why.

God had a really sick sense of humor, he mused.

He and Merlin were both set to patrol the perimeter that evening. Despite being told to patrol separately, Arthur stubbornly remained by Merlin's side. He'd learned early into his tour not to ignore his intuition after he and a fellow soldier walked right into a trap set by the Vietnamese. It was Merlin who'd freed him, saving his life in the process.

After two perimeter sweeps with nothing alarming, Arthur was beginning to feel a little foolish for disobeying orders. He was headed in the opposite direction, finally beginning his patrol alone, when movement out of the corner of his eye caught his attention.

In all black clothing, he hadn't noticed the group of soldiers in the shadows. He turned and ran at a dead sprint to catch up with Merlin, yelling for him to get back to camp and warn the others. He crumpled at the feeling of a knife in his back, stunned by the sudden lack of feeling in his legs.

When he looked down, there was a machete sticking out of his chest.

Merlin screamed, and Arthur thought he heard the faint stirring of their camp through the trees. He grunted when the machete was yanked out of him, and realized belatedly that he was really dying this time.

He lost consciousness for a few seconds, and woke when he felt his head being cradled by someone. He smiled at Merlin, reaching up to yank on his sleeve.

"I.. feel privileged.. To have known you. Called you friend..," Merlin shook his head wildly, refusing to accept reality.

"No! You'll be okay, just stay with me!" he yelled, panicking when Arthur's grip slackened and his eyes rolled back in his head.

When it became clear that Arthur wasn't going to wake up, Merlin leaned down and kissed him. Shouts of disgust met his ears, but he ignored them. He was bent over Arthur's forehead, sobbing.

"I wanted _more_ than friendship," he cried, before he was torn from Arthur's body and shot in the head.

 

-(2014, London)-

 

Arthur found Merlin at a nightclub.

The pale skin and black hair arrested his gaze, and he found startlingly dark blue eyes staring back into his.

The man stepped up to Arthur's table and smiled.

"You look oddly familiar. Haven't I seen you somewhere?" Arthur was thrown off balance at the Irish accent, but quickly regained his composure.

"Er, I don't _think_ so. But who knows?" Arthur smiled. "Anyway, I'm Bradley."

Merlin takes a sip of his drink.

"Name's Colin. I'm a nurse. What about you?" Arthur shrugged uncomfortably.

"My father owns Camelot Entertainment. I'm on the Board of Directors," Arthur groaned when Merlin's eyes lit up.

"Oh! I absolutely love _The Round Table_. It's a great show," Arthur ducks his head in shame. "So, Bradley.. what do you say to getting out of here?"

Merlin offered Arthur a hand. Arthur grasped onto it and tightened his grip when he felt a jolt pass through him.

His eyes met Merlin's, where he could've sworn he just saw a spark of gold.

Arthur smiled.

"It's been an age, old friend," he yanked Merlin in for a tight hug, hands fisting into a material that felt too soft to be the brown wool jacket he's familiar with.

"God, I've missed you Arthur," Merlin's voice was barely a whisper, full of tears.

Arthur leaned back to shove Merlin's shoulder.

"Don't be such a girl," he joked, trying to lighten the mood. Merlin's answering smile was watery when they began walking side by side.

"This life feels so peaceful," Arthur admitted with difficulty after several minutes of them not knowing what to say to each other.

"It's too much," Merlin agreed. "It feels wrong, after all the wars."

Arthur looked up at the sky, shuddering involuntarily at the onslaught of memories.

"Maybe we're finally allowed to have some peace for the mistakes we've made," he sounded more confident by the second. "Honestly, I think we're damn well _owed_   at this point."

"I only wanted to be close to you again," Merlin murmured, looking haunted. The same hollow-eyed horror Arthur knew he would probably find in the mirror back at his flat later.

He backed Merlin into an alley, hardly understanding what was happening between them.

He just wanted to stop the hurting.

"More than friendship, hm?" Arthur whispered against Merlin's neck. "Might could be arranged."

His lips trailed upwards until they hovered over Merlin's, barely a hairsbreadth away. "...Unless you don't want it anymore."

Merlin said nothing, eyes dark with unspoken emotion. He switched positions with Arthur and smashed their lips together, gripping onto Arthur's expensive silk shirt like a lifeline.

Arthur kissed back fiercely, his heart racing. He didn't know if he could be happy in this new life, and that terrified him more than any war he'd ever been a part of.

Somewhere in the middle of their kiss, each distracted by their own thoughts, both Arthur and Merlin started crying.


End file.
